


The A Team

by orphan_account



Category: Ed Sheeran (Musician), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blowjobs, Child Abuse, Cutting, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Hate, Lies, Love, Love Triangles, M/M, Masturbation, Mistrust, Parent/Child Incest, Prostitution, Sex, Sexual Tension, Smoking, Suicide, Underage Prostitution, handjobs, larry stylinson - Freeform, mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:29:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow Ed ends up touring with 18 year old Bash (Emma Watson) and her friend 20 year old Candace (Taylor Swift) who've been prostites since age 13.</p><p>Bash hates Ed.<br/>Candace loves Bash.<br/>Ed is lost.<br/>Harry loves Louis.<br/>Louis is stuck with Eleanor.</p><p>Basically, chaos ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The A Team

**Author's Note:**

> Fanfic on Ed, its not perfect canon, some different small details.
> 
> Also, typos are cause this is all written on mobile soo, point them out if you want, its appreciated!

_Ed Sheeran's POV_

**Ed sits on his laptop at his desk in his highrise flat in London, taking a two week break before his worldwide tour featuring his new success, "The A Team".**

 

Wow. 57 thousand copies sold, top ten hit in over 11 countries and 16 on the Billboard Hot 100.

 

As I scroll through the Wikipedia page dedicated  to my song, I cant help but wonder over how my single got- is getting- so much attention. The A Team. It was all a little bit crazy, to me at least. I mean, this is the most attention I've gotten since I moved to London to start my music career. Not to mention,  what with the content of the song, I'd never imagined it ever getting radio play. I still can't believe it, and I've finally gotten my big break.  

 

I'm lost in my thoughts as I think of the lyrics I had written in my head, "White lips, pale face...she dont wanna go outside tonight, we're all under the upper hand". I had written them thinking of the typical crackwhore after visiting a homeless shelter, hoping somehow it would reach someone out there and make them feel less alone. The song, surprisingly enough, also hits close to home for myself as well. Not that anybody knows, and I plan to keep it that way. Music was a way to completely write my life out and sing it to the world, yet keep what everything really meant to myself. That's the main reason I went into music as a career path in the first place. 

 

My thoughts are interrupted by my phone ringing. I lean back in my computer chair and pick up my  blackberry with a cracked screen, I really needed to get a new phone already. I look at the screen to check the caller ID : "DONT ANSWER Trista :|"

Its not that I disliked my agent (which Trista is), the name was more of a joke. Though she did tend be bordering psychotic when it came to deadlines,  introducing me to new deals and contracts and just in general. I hear alot of Egyptians are like that (which Trista also is). I sighed and wonder remotely why management would be calling me on my break before my worldwide tour.

 

Before I could convince myself to just put the phone down and take a nap, I answered. 

 

"Ed Sheeran the amazing speaking, how may I help you?" I said in a fake preppy voice I reserved especially for people I wanted to annoy.

 

"Ed, stop being an idiot", Trista says. If I didnt know her, I'd think she was annoyed, but I know she's smiling. Its cause I'm cute, obviously.

 

"Idiot? My poor heart, Trista, have a soul!" I joke around.

 

"Whatever Ed...Listen! I think you're really gonna like this idea, especially after the success of your last single"

 

I sigh, lean back farther in my chair and wait for her to spill whatever scheme management has come up with now.


	2. She Don't Wanna Go Outside Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bash & Candace's relationship.  
> Bash meets Ed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bash's POV.  
> One week later.

 

I watch as snowflakes fall lazily through the quickly darkening night sky in New York. Thankfully for Candace and I, winter is finally coming to a slow close in March.

 

"Shit," I curse as my way too freaking high electric blue heels almost cause me trip over the curb. Making my way to our usual spot, I'm lost deep in my thoughts.. What the hell, I think, why does it always seem to snow harder the nights I dont want to be outside...shit, its not like I ever really want to be outside.

 

I look out of the corner of my eye at my friend Candace. She's gorgeous with long, flowing, naturally blonde hair and big blue eyes that are killer when she does her signature puppy face. She had a perfect body too, killer legs and breasts you'd pay to see. Men did pay to see, in fact.

 

Not that I think myself as anything special. I see myself too skinny, hair too curly and brown, like my eyes. I never thought myself ugly either; small bits of confidence come from what I remember pre pubescent boys had written on the walls about me back in whatever school I actually had attended. Average Jane, though, I thought.

 

However, Candace also happens to be the only girl (human, now that I think of it) I could actually rely on and call a friend. She's always been my main bitch and me her's. We've been joined at the hip since she found me sleeping on a random park bench the night my uncle kicked me out of the house when I was just 13. And its been five years since then, we've owned this turf working as prostitutes and we don't even need a pimp. We basically look out for each other; one of us works and the other stands guard to make sure nothing happens. We work this like it ain't nobody's business.

 

I take another drag of my cigarette and pass it to her. She grabs it and laughs without humor at my scowl.

 

"What's so fucking funny?" I stop and turn to her. Candace knows me well enough to just shake her head and keep walking as I follow, almost sulking. 

 

Normally I'm not so harsh with her, but she's been getting on my damn nerves lately. That, and I'm always touchy when its my night. My night meaning its my turn to be getting picked up by random strangers, giving them whatever they can pay for. Blowjobs, handjobs, on top, on bottom. Fuck, I've done crazy shit for the right price. Not that Im proud of it, but you've got to make money somehow, right? It used to be to mainly fuel my heroin addiction, but I've been clean for three months after six month's use. It feels like years, or maybe just seconds ago I was last shooting up. But then again, I probably shouldn't be thinking of it much.

 

We've reached our spot a little early, down the block on the corner of First and Amistad, where anybody who needs us knows to find us.

 

I slip off my already too thin cardigan and hand it to Candace, revealing my super low cut dress. Its a sleek, sleeveless black number that doesn't even reach mid thigh, made of a spandexy satin material. My (quite small I'd say) breasts couldn't possibly pop out anymore without flashing people. Its a bit classier than I usually work in.

 

"Damn, girl. I'd tap that" Candace teases while taking my cardigan, trying to make light of our situation. You had to give it to her, she knew how to make me smile. 

 

"Hell, you fuck anything that moves, Dace," I tease back, using a nickname I'd given her years ago.

 

"Damnnn straight!" she laughs loudly and I smile at the sound. 

 

"Anyway, seriously, you look hot in that dress. Its kinda early tonight too, so maybe we can get two jobs in tonight? Just sneak out after the first guy and come back here...?" She trails off in a question, not pushing me since I'm already on edge.

 

"I don't know, I'm not feeling too good tonight. I'll try. Let's just get the first one over with," I sigh.

I don't want to miss out on a job because I'm too selfish, but tonight is just not my night.

 

I adjust my hair, fluffing it up and pull my dress up a little to show a little of my curvy bottom as a car slowly drives up. Other than the car, the street is basically deserted except for stray cats and homeless people. As it pulls up to the curb Candace and I are standing at, I take it in. 

Its an old red truck, rusting around the wheels and desperately needs a paint job.

 

Fuck, I hope it isn't some drunk son-of-a-bitch hick trying to get a blowjob.

 

The truck slowly stops in front of Candace and I, the window rolling down. Shit. It is a drunk hick. Wearing a fucking baseball cap. What fucking year is this idiot stuck in, 2005?, I think as I take in his appearance. 

 

He looks to be about 40 with bloodshot eyes,  drool coming out the side of mouth and I can see the floor of the car trashed with empty beer bottles and half-smoked cigarettes. The smell wafts out of the car, thick enough to cut with a knife. It smells of week old gym socks and rotting cheese. 

 

Tonight is not my fucking night. Fuck.

 

"Hey there, sweet thang. How bout you and yer purdy lil friend hop on and we can find a hotel nearby? I'm sure you could show me a good time," he slurs while smiling crookedly with two of his bottom teeth missing.

 

I look back at Candace and quickly make a throwing up signal before turning back to the man, putting on my sexy smirk.

"Hell yeah I can show you a good time," I say slowly, opening up the passenger side door and hopping in with Candace.

 

\----------------

 

I'm now sitting on the edge of the small hotel mattress, smoking another cigarette. Thankfully the drunk passed out after a only blowjob. Fuck if I was going to give him anything else, I think as I take a drag from the cig.

 

I should be getting my money and leaving, but I can't help but stay and look back at him and wonder what he was trying to forget, or escape, or prove.There's always a reason men go out to fuck a random strangers brains out. Sometimes its pleasure, but in my years I've always felt like there's something else behind it. Nobody ever does it for the "right reason", if that even exists.

 

I wrap the sheets around myself and head to the bathroom to clean up so I can get dressed and go outside where Candace is standing guard. Not before taking four hundred dollar bills out of the man's wallet, of course. A bit much for a blow job, but who knew hicks carried so much money with them.

 

After putting my dress back on and fixing my makeup, I meet up with Candace outside the hotel door.

 

"Damn drunk passed out in 10 minutes! All I had to do was give him a blowjob. Even left his wallet out," I brag as I pass the money to Candace.

 

"You know, I'm thinking maybe I can take another customer tonight," I say feeling like maybe this night isn't as bad as I thought. 

 

Candace counts the money, smile widening as we walk back towards our usual corner. I check my phone, its still 11PM, I've got time for another job but there aren't any cars passing by,  so we lean against the concrete wall on the side of the sidewalk and I light another cigarette. 

 

I take a deep drag and try to put my attitude with Candace to the side for now.

 

"Hey, Dace?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Do you ever get fucking sick?...Like, of everything?" I ask, my voice cracking betraying the torment of pain inside me . I've only ever opened up to Candace, I don't talk to anyone else.

 

"Baby," she says, and turns me to her, hugging me tightly. "Every single fucking day I want to get out of this hellhole. We're gonna find a way, Bash. Things will get better."

 

I almost believe her as I allow a small smile to slip on my face and hug her back. This is why I freaking love this girl. 

 

"What if?" Candace asks.

 

"Nooo, not that!" I roll my eyes at her playfully, though I suspect tonight may be another night this stupid game saves me. Its been too many nights I've held a razor, sometimes a knife, others even a gun to end my mortal life till I stop, remembering the fake promises, sweet nothings or little hopes Candace whispered in my ear not long ago.

 

"Come on! It'll be fun!" She plays along with my annoyed tone, though knowing her,  she shares my own concerns. She should be, with my fucked up history.

 

"I'll start," she volunteers, and takes a second to think.

 

"What if...We go back to the motel and..and Anne has pancakes made!"

 

I chuckle, thinking of Anne, the wife of the manager of the motel we've been staying at for two years now. She makes breakfast in the worker's lounge and on good nights, she'll pack leftovers and leave it in our fridge.

 

Basically the point of the game is to list small little hopes, victories we can have, small slivers of control in a world where we can't control anything else. It sounds and sometimes feels silly, but its never failed to get my spirits up.

 

Its my turn now. "Hmm...What if...What if she has hashbrowns too!"

 

"Fat chance! Well, what if...Oh my god! What if the Curly One calls me!"

 

I look at her uneasily and take another drag from my cigarette. "Dace..I dont want to sound like harsh, but he sounds like a player. Just don't count in it, kay?"

 

The Curly One is a nickname we have for some boy she had met at the club a month or so ago. It was an upscale club too, she'd bought a new dress and went all out. I'd stayed at a friend's that night, the club not being my scene.

 

She'd come home talking about a "beautiful, funny, charming" curly haired young man she'd met ("he's even got a British accent!"). I thought nothing of it, till she wouldn't stop bringing it up. She'd never liked someone for one whole month. Having given him her cell number, she promised me she wasn't serious about him. But I knew better.

 

"Bash," she starts exasperatedly. "You can't hate on what-ifs, remember? This is supposed to be a judgement free zone!" She ends in a mocking authoritative tone.

 

"Whatever," I snort, "I'm just saying. Its a lot better for you if you don't care about too many people. People fuck you over in the end, Dace, its how it goes."

 

"I swear, you fucking lecture me, I'm the older one here!" Candace playfully pushes my shoulder with hers and grabs the cigarette from my hand. If I hadn't known her this long, I'd definitley push her the fuck away from me.

 

I can't deny that I'm physically uncomfortable around everyone except her for some reason. It wasn't surprising,  what with the things my uncle did. Obviously people I worked with are different. There was never actual affection between me and a client, no sense of real connection. It was a job, treated with the same sense of professionalism and cold disdain, striving to please the client. Other than that, I can't take physical contact, or even sweet words. I don't like people being unnecessarily nice if I don't fucking know them. It makes me sick.

 

"Your turn!" Cadance brings me back to earth with her , as always, loud voice and hands back the cigarette and I take a deep breath.

 

"Hmm..well, umm what if. What if we go back home and we find a letter in the mailbox," I lower my voice as if we're little girls around the campfire telling scary stories. "And it looks all important. So we open it, and its a letter from...A letter from..hmm, maybe I just shouldn't tell you, get your hopes up or something."

 

Candace's eyes are wide as saucers, "What? No, what! Tell me, I wanna know, come on, please?"

 

I laugh evilly. "You're sure?"

 

"Yes!"

 

"Well, what if its a letter ...From Obama!"

 

"Fuck you! Fuck, damn you Bash! I thought you were serious what the hell...That isn't funny," Candace all but fucking screams at me, but Im too busy doubled up in laughter to care.

 

Obama is another inside joke we use whenever we want to prank each other. We act like somethings really serious, and just make up some stupid shit about Obama in the end. Stupid, but its been and insider for as long as I can remember.

 

We've fallen into a comfortable silence,  passing the cigarette back and forth and laughing as two cars pull up slowly to the curb. These aren't hick trucks, that's for sure. The first is a small, sleek, black Audi and the  second is a black Range Rover. I whistle to Candace and put out the cig as I strut up in a sexy catwalk to the small Audi. 

 

The window rolls down as I pull the top of my dress down a little further and clear my throat.

 

"Hey, baby. What can I-" my voice dies in my throat and the smile is replaced with what I imagine is a defensive scowl as the tinted window reveals startling blue grey eyes belonging a messy ginger kid. Who literally looks like he's twleve.

 

What the fuck.

 

It takes me a second to realize there's a man in the passenger seat with a huge camera pointed at me, and another guy in the back with one of those fuzzy mic pole things stuck in my face. 

 

Shit. Have we been caught? Is this some sort of a twisted joke? My thoughts are running a mile a minute and I'm feeling sick, the small dredges of uncertain happiness I had felt moments ago draining away into nowhere to be replaced by cold fear and distrust, the familiar need to alert and to protect myself and Candace.

 

He gives an unsure smile and sticks out his hand to shake. 

 

"Hi, I'm Ed Sheeran. Do you mind if we have a chat?" 

 

I can't catch a fucking break.

 


	3. You Found Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed finds out the plan and (sort of) meets Bash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ed's POV
> 
> Sorry if the font size has changed, still messing around with style and skins or whatever.

Sitting here in Trista's office in New York, a day after flying in straight from London, I'm still feeling the jet lag and I'm not my usual happy-camper self. 

"So, are you in Ed? Cause if we can get through these guidelines," Trista says while shuffling through a pile of papers, "we can get out there and do this tonight! It would be perfect with your upcoming tour as well..."

"Trista...I don't know. I mean, I've just flown in from London, I'm sort of tired. And I don't know if its a good idea. Im not even sure I know what you're saying, really." If I'm honest, I actually have no idea what she's talking about.

I'm tired and my body is telling me I should be asleep, while Trista is across from me rambling on about some papers I should look at and sign and other crazy things for publicity. _Can't a guy get some decent rest around here?_

I suddenly realize Trista is still talking about the papers. 

"Trista,  Trista,  stop. I'll look at them, I promise. Just give me a few hours to sleep? Its 7 in the morning for God's sake."

I can see the reluctance on her face.  _Well, too bad. Sheeran wanna sleep, he gonna sleep,_ I think as I get up and take the papers. I don't usually think in ebonics, but New York does that to me.

"I  _promise._ I'll have the papers done by 5 tonight! I'll call you when I'm done." I specifically don't make it a question; I really need sleep. 

"Alright, Ed. But only because you've just flown in. I'll be waiting for your call!" She yells as I'm already walking out the door of her huge office.

"Yeah, yeah. Call shmall," I mutter under my breath, walking away faster, anticipating the feel of a wonderful, fluffy pillow beneath my head.

Normally I'm not so blunt and rude with Trista, I almost feel bad for just walking out. But if you've ever worked the music business,  you know that  you have to put your foot down, and firmly. 

I make my way out of the corporate building.  _Dang, how big is this place?_  It takes me almost ten minutes for me to reach the doors and  find my car in the parking lot.

Thank God, I'm not famous enough yet to need a bodyguard or a driver almost everywhere I go. I would hate that.

I climb into the rental Audi and drive quickly back to my hotel room, ordering some room service food for breakfast and watching Law and Order reruns till I fall slowly into a much awaited and blissful sleep.

* * *

 I wake up around 4 in the afternoon, refreshed and reenergeized till I remember the dreadful stack of papers I'm supposed to have read by an hour from now. I get up, wash my face and frantically pick up the papers.

"Ahh, fizzle sticks. I've only got an hourrr." Yeah, I sing to myself. Cause I'm Ed Sheeran, innit.

I sit at the coffee table in the sitting area in my hotel room and mute the tv so I can have some peace and quiet. I begin looking through the papers.

After about 20 minutes of solid reading, I'm pretty sure I understand what the papers are saying. But I'm not sure I like it.

From what I understand,  apparently, I'm supposed to go out with some camera guys and basically pick up the first prostitute we see on the streets. At that point I'd offer her the chance to be in a  documentary with me based on my song The A Team, film a special music video for charity, and touring with me on my year long nation wide tour in America. She would be given a contract upon accepting, like the one I have in my hand for me. Its a fully binding year long contract that can be extended depending on circumstances.

Its not that I don't like helping people, I'm just not sure this is the right way to help someone. From my point of view, I just feel like I'd be using someone else's sad story as publicity for me. I've never done good deeds in public for a  reason. I do it to help others, not myself.

Then again, I think, maybe bringing it out to the public it would encourage people to donate and volunteer to help. People dont often stop to think of those less fortunate than them, and if they do, they have no convenient way to help. We could even start a homeless shelter or a soup kitchen. It would start small, but with the right publicity, amazing things could be done from there.  I get kind of excited with the thought; the possibilities could be endless.

However, the interest in this song is making me a bit uncomfortable to say the least. I have a past with prostitutes and its not something I want to slip out or talk to anyone about. There are parts of my past that should stay just that; floating distant memories in my head alone.

I'm deep in my thoughts weighing the pros and cons when my phone rings. I grab it off the table, remotely thinking of my need for a new phone again, and see that its Trista. I sigh and answer.

"Trista, love, how are you! I've missed you dearly. I'm glad you only called thirty minutes early this time," I tease in a sarcastic tone, in a much better mood than earlier. 

"Haha, very funny. I swear you're like a little kid who needs a nap, always grumpy when you're sleepy. You're lucky you have such an understanding agent Ed!"

"Yeah, yeah. Of course I am," I chuckle lightly.

"So! Straight to business, have you looked through the papers?"

"Yes...I have, I actually just finished...Its just...I don't know, Trista. I just feel like maybe we'd be using the girl we pick up as a publicity stunt. I don't want it to be like that. I love the idea of giving someone a once in a lifetime chance, but I really want to help them, not make money off their story," I explain, of course trying to build my case without bringing up any of my own discomfort towards having to work with a prostitute. Not in the way people usually work with prostitutes, I mean, I'd be helping her, But repressed memories coming out are something I never want to experience again. I don't put much hope in fighting the idea off, like I said, Trista is psycho when it comes to getting her way.

"Ed, you've got the biggest heart I've ever witnessed, I swear to God. Nobody else would even think of that. Listen, this  _is_ all about helping those girls out there! Its all up to you how most of the documentary goes, you'll talk to the producers and directors. Of course, you'll also be getting publicity. Its a win-win situation, Ed. We just need to get this project started tonight, so I need you to sign the last paper in the pack and head out tonight. You in, Ed?"

I can hardly say no to her. I'll just have to be firm with how the girl who is chosen is treated,  she won't be like some animal in a zoo.  _We're going to make her life better_ , I promise myself. As for myself, I'll have to  get over my uneasiness or it could give something away.

"Alright, I'll sign the papers. Do I have to come to your office right now though? I've got to grab a late lunch with Harry," remembering the text I received when I woke up.

"Nope,  that's perfectly fine Ed," Trista's voice all honey now that I've agreed, "Come back in around 9, alright?"

After a quick goodbye I end the call and text Harry to see where we're meeting up for lunch. Hopefully somewhere paparazzi-free. If that even exists when you're with  _the_  Harry Styles.

* * *

I drive up to the address Harry's given me. 

_Wait, what? This can't be right._

I look around a bit confused. Why am I in a McDonald's parking lot? I text Harry to see if I have the address right.

* _Harry why am I in a McDonald's parking lot...?*_

He answers almost instantly.  
 _*Haha...about that. I'm really feeling a happy meal? :D Come in mate!*_  
 _Only Harry_ , I think.

I walk in as it starts snowing outside and find Harry ordering at the front counter. I sit down at a booth near the kid's ball pen thingy so less people will see us. Of course I tell Harry to find a place people  _won't_ see us, and he picks McDonald's. Genius, really.

"I got you two happy meals, hope you don't mind!" Harry chirps and sets them down in front of me.

"Ooof course I don't, its not like I'm 20 years old, right?" I really don't mind, I just don't particularly like McDonald's. Oh well.

  
Harry's phone pings signaling a text. He checks it and smiles at his phone.  
"Hope you don't mind McDonald's, it had to be somewhere...Ermm, somewhere close to the hotel," Harry trails off and his smile widens the longer he looks at his phone.

"Mate, you look like a lovesick fool! Louis again?"

"W-what? No, why would you think that? I talk to people  _other_  than Louis y'know!" Harry's blushing a little now and his eyes dart away.

"Haha, sure, I know you do," I say, taking a chicken nugget dipping it in BBQ sauce, "But none of them make you smile at your phone like an idiot."

"Touché...Anyway, what's got your panties in a twist? What's this crazy thing with management you texted me about?"

I tell him Trista's crazy idea as we eat our wonderful lunch of chicken nuggets and apple slices with caramel.

"Well...Maybe it isn't the best idea, but if you worked hard, you could actually change  someone's life for the better. And that's always a good thing...That, and you've sorta already signed the contract, mate." That much is true,  I'd left the signed papers in the back of my car.

"I know, I know. I guess I'll have to take it as it goes."

"You'll do fine. If you want, I can come with you tonight? To pick her up, I mean?"

"Nahh, that's alright. I'll probably have to take camera guys with me and all that mess. Thanks, though. You'll definitely have to meet whoever it is later though." I'm glad Harry has offered to come, but I'm not sure Trista would allow it.

"So, how are you and Louis?" I faintly remember them having gotten in a huge fight just two weeks ago and Harry had to sleep over when we were all back in London. "And the rest of the infamous crew?"

"We're good, we're good," Harry's smile is wide, "Louis and I flew in a week early, the rest of them are coming later. We're just laying low for now before we have to start recording our next album."

Looks like things are doing good back in Larry heaven.

"Laying low? Is that what the youngins call the mischievous things they get up to in bed these days?"

"Ed! Have some manners!" Its funny to see Harry's blush spread.

"I jest, I jest. Although its probably true!"

"Whatever!" Harry rolls his eyes, his grin even bigger now. "Can't wait for our next album though. Its gonna be the bomb dot com!"

"...I'm not going to ask where you heard that phrase. I don't want to know. Please just don't make it a lyric," I laugh. Harry's always coming up with weird phrases that are cheesy and  he thinks are funny. Well, I do too, but most people don't.

I start putting the wrappers and boxes back on the trays. I'd offer to pay, but I think Styles' wallet can take a few happy meals.

"Thanks for the lunch, mate. I'll text you later when I see how this business goes. And good luck on your album!"

"No problem, and thanks! Alright, see you later, Ed. Hope all goes well tonight for you," Harry says as we do our small handshake/clasp of hands thing and he  picks up our trays.

"Yeah me too. Say hi to Louis for me, would yah?" I add the last part as I'm walking away purely to see Harry's blush again. He rolls his eyes at me and shakes his head.

Seriously, those two are the cutest. When they're not fighting anyway, but that's a completely different story. You could say they're passionate, at the least. It really wasn't their fault, what with their own problems with management and being unable to go public.

My thoughts inevitably stray to further as I get into my car, going through a back door to avoid the paparazzi already collecting outside. The more I think about Harry and Louis' relationship, the more my thoughts turn cynically towards my own relationships,  or lack thereof. I've never really had someone I loved. I guess I've just never had the time. Or met someone who just clicked. Its been many nights after a particularly loud show when I'm finally laying in my own bed when I wish my breath wasn't the only one in the room, or that someone's hand was just centimeters away ready to comfort me, and me them. And things always get worse from there, thoughts straying to where I was in life not too long ago, brought to fame by more of a twist of fate than an actual desire.

I'm not sad, exactly. It's just that I thought by now, I'd be with someone already. Its a lot harder when you're touring your life away and dont have the time to really get to know someone.

As I'm driving back to the hotel, The A Team comes on the radio. I smile and turn up the volume and start singing along. Yeah, I sing along with myself. Cause I'm Ed Sheeran, so its alright.

_I should do a cover of this song. Haha._ Yeah, I know, I know. I'm cheesy.

Im passing a smaller street with a small gathering of people all looking at something. As I driveby them, I see a small kid playing guitar and singing with the guitar case open in front of him for people's change. The image sticks in my mind and suddenly, I think of small phrases and I feel the inspiration for a new song coming on. I've reached the hotel and I have about two hours before I have to meet with Trista. I rush in to my room and start writing music and lyrics.

* * *

Before I know it, it's dark out and I need to get going to Trista's office, pick up the camera men and get going.

I'm actually feeling nervous as I make the drive to the office. I mean, what exactly am I even supposed to tell the girl I pick up?  _"_ _Hi, I'm famous. Tour America with me and make a music video, it'll make your life better, I promise!"_? Not exactly the best pick-up line, I imagine. I guess I'll have to wing it.

I get to Trista's and they have another car waiting,  a black range rover with camera men and security. Trista gives me a street to drive to, I'm too nervous to even ask why she has a specific street written out.

I also have to take two camera guys in my car, and we head out. I look down at the scrawled on post-it I was handed.  " _Go on First Street, take the second left_ _. Pick up the first girl you want to._ _"_

_The first girl "I want to"?_  What is that even supposed to mean. I guess that means its up to me who to pick up.

I type in the street name into my phone and drive, making small talk with the two camera guys, getting to know them since they're not my usual camera guys. I find out one's name is David and the other is Stanley, they specialize in filming documentary type films.  _Makes sense, I guess._

I turn onto First street and its a small, empty street.  _I guess it has to be, so you don't get caught._

Its kind of weird though,  the street is pretty empty save for some random drunks. I guess it isn't that weird, considering its lightly snowing.  _Will there even be anyone out here in the snow?_

We drive down a little further till we reach a sign saying its Amistad street.  _First and Amistad._ It sounds familiar, but I can't put my finger on it.

I see two figures, one a quite tall blonde dressed in slacks and a sweater, holding something. Her clothes don't exactly fit the stereotype of a prostitute. The other, however, is wearing a super short, low cut black dress and has heavy makeup and a big head of  black curls. I can see as we pull closer that they're smoking.

"Ok. I'm going to stop here," I tell David and he tells the men in the range rover behind us and the fix their cameras towards the girls as we get closer.

I really shouldn't be as nervous as I am. My heart's even beating faster and my hands feel clammy. I've never really been good at first encounters.  That, or I'm uncomfortable with the memories I have associated with women with full heads of wild black curls.

Our cars pull up to the curb and the shorter girl in the dress turns around to face our cars and I can tell she looks impressed by the cars. She tugs up her dress from the bottom and I can practically  _see_  her arse. I can't help but feel wrong.

I'm so nervous I don't remeber to roll the window down till the girl is practically right up at the window of the car.

Have you ever had one of those moments where its seems like everyone is still moving normally,  but time has frozen for you? It seems to last longer for you. That's exactly what happenes to me as this girl leaned over to look into the car window.

She has large almond shaped eyes that are an exotic dark brown with long eyelashes. With her thick curls billowing around her face, she looks wild...But, oddly, in a good way? Kind of like the odd beauty of a lioness on the hunt. You can admire from afar, but know better than to get in her way. The only thing distracting from her beauty is the too-thick makeup she has on. I guess it comes with the job?

Its hard to describe how I feel right now and I barely understand what I'm feeling myself. This is feeling a little surreal, like its happening too fast. _Should I smile? What if I  look creepy?_

I roll the window down clumsily and watch her expression change. It goes quickly from a smirk to confusion to defensive in a single second as she takes in the camera and mic pointed at her. Her thoughts are literally right there on her face, she's so easy to read.

I realize I should probably say something before she runs away or something. I'm not sure what exactly to say though. Should I get out of the car? Tell them to get in?

I smile unsurely and stick my hand out. "Hi, I'm Ed Sheeran.  Do you mind if we have a chat?"

As soon as the words are out of  my mouth I regret them.  _A chat? A chat?_ I sound like a total creep, even to myself.


	4. Will You, Wont You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bash breaks down, flashback.  
> Ed tells them the plan.  
> Wait that's backwards haha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bash's POV
> 
> After this chapter, I'm thinking of moving to strictly past tense and omniscient as a POV, I might come back and change these as well.

"What the actual fuck?" The words slip past my mouth before I actually think them through. Then again, I don't usually think much through before doing it.

I hear footsteps behind me as Candace walks up to the Audi to see what's going on. "Bash?" 

I realize Ed is still holding his hand out. Does he actually expect me to fucking shake his hand or something? 

"Erm- hi!" Ed starts off awkwardly, talking towards Candace, holding his hand out towards her instead now. Maybe cause I looked at him like he had grown a second head.

"I'm Edward Sheeran, I'm a singer-songwriter. I was wondering if you would mind having a chat?"

What the fuck. Talks like he's a fucking professor, preppy little twat.

Candace's eyes suddenly get wide as she turns towards Ed, confused,  but having the politely wonderful manners ingrained from her childhood, she finally shakes his hand, albeit catiously, sizing him up with her eyes. 

"Candace, I'm Candace," she introduces herself, "And this is Bash," she gestures towards me.

"What the fuck do you want?" I ask Ed, almost growling. "And why the hell have you  got cameras up in our faces?"

A small blush rises to Ed's cheeks, his eyes get wide and he looks surprised.

Probably a fluffy little shit, never been spoken to like he fucking should be. I'm not exactly sure why, but I really don't like the redhead randomly asking for "a chat". Or maybe I'm just already in a shitty mood. Either way, I don't really care, I just want this night to be over already. And this damned Ed kid is getting in the way of that.

"S-sorry. Probably not the best way to go about this," Ed stumbles, turning to the camera guys, " Shut them off, please." His voice drops lower, "And- erm, sorry, but I think you should probably leave...leave us alone? Yeah. That'd be best."

Candace grabs my shoulder and pulls me back a little from the car as the camera guys are getting out.

She drops her voice so as not to let anyone else hear, "What the fuck, Bash? What the fuck! Do you know who that is?!"

"Don't fucking 'what the fuck' me! I don't give two shits who he is, he gets on my fucking nerves! Lets get the fuck out of here," my voice raised, not bothering to keep it down and I turn to walk away. I know I'm being ridiculously immature,  but at this point I really could not care less.

"Bash," Candace turns me fully towards her and puts both her hands on my shoulders. "Bash, please. Please, just once, listen to me." I stop, if only because I can hear the desperation in her voice.

"This is Ed Sheeran. He's famous," she stresses. She cuts me off as I open my mouth to protest, "I know, I know, you don't care that he is! But, like, who knows what he could want to talk about? What if, I don't know,  its a chance to get out of this shit life we're in?" Her eyes go wide.

I can practically hear her voice go freaking octaves higher like it does whenever she gets excited. At this point I've calmed down a little and am listening to her.

Candace glances back at Ed, who looks away quickly. By now he's gotten out of his car and is standing by it awkwardly,  hands in his pockets. Its clear he can hear our conversation, but is trying (and failing miserably) to act like he can't. "Bash, I know you're not in the best mood now," she starts slowly and I snort and roll my eyes.

"But just,  please. You don't even have to talk. I just ..let's see what he has to say, please?" she begs.

I look up at Candace and to my dismay she's giving me those damn puppy eyes. Eyes that big and blue should be fucking illegal.

"Damn. Fine. But don't expect to me to fucking act any different just cause he's a preppy little fuck," I say, not sure if I should have maybe added more expletives to my statement to get my point across.

Candace just beams at me and drags me back to where Ed is standing.

"Um, sorry. We were just, y'know, we had to talk," Candace laughs nervously.

Ed glances quickly at me and I swear I can see what I think is a glimmer of fear, but I can't be sure.

"That's fine, its my fault. I came up to you the wrong way, cameras and all."

Candace nods and waits for Ed to continue when I don't contribute to the conversation.

"Erm, well...See, I mean. I- its actually kind of hard to explain," Ed stumbles,"I think it would be easier to discuss over coffee? You both must be freezing."  He tries to discreetly eye me in my dress that's obviously not suited to the weather.

I roll my eyes and grab my cardigan from Candace. "Can we just hurry the hell up?"

"Umm, Bash. Wait. Bash needs to change! You can't go out for coffee like that."

Fuck. I'm already way too annoyed with all the fuss being made over going for  a freaking cup of coffee.

They decide to stop at a public bathroom on the way where I can change into the clothes Candace (thankfully) carries in her bag when we're working.

I get back into the Audi after changing. wearing a much  warmer pair of black skinny jeans, a black Green Day t-shirt and the black cardigan from before with my usual pair combat boots I wear when not working. Yeah, I guess I'm a fucking emo.

I climb into the back seat and throw my dress and heels on the car floor without bothering to say anything as it seems to me like Ed and Candace are doing damn fine with conversation on their own.

I listen with annoyance at how talkative Candace is just because Ed is "famous" (I'd never heard of him before) and with slight curiosity. 

"..its amazing," Candace all but raves, "The first time I heard it, I couldn't believe something like that was, like, an actual famous song. On the actual radio."

I roll my eyes at what a blonde Candace can sound like. I love her, but really.

"Like, ohmygawd, riiight?" I can't help but slip in the snarky comment.

Candace turns back to look at me from the front seat and gives me what she must think is a scary glare. If I'm honest, she looks like a bunny.

I huff and cross my arms and she turns back around. The rest of the ride is awkwardly silent with the radio in the background.

Ed pulls up and parks in front of a small Starbucks that seems mostly empty. Not surprising, around midnight on a Saturday. Most people would be clubbing or partying. Not fucking being driven around be Ed Sheeran.

He turns, facing both me and Candace. 

"Erm..do you want to sit inside, or should we just talk in the car?"

I'm not really sure why he would want to stay in the car, but I shrug showing my indifference. Candace says she'd like to go inside so we do.

We get out of the car and Ed holds open the door to the small cafe for us. I roll my eyes at him, figuring it doesn't matter since I'm already being a complete bitch.

As we're ordering our drinks, three young girls, who looks to be around 15 years old to me, come running up to us.

"Oh my God! Are you Ed? Like Ed Sheeran?" one of them squeals annoyingly.

"Erm, yeah, hi!"

They get Ed to sign random papers (one has him sign her shoe. Her shoe) and take pictures. One of them turns to me, holding out her phone.

"Um, could you take a picture of us? Please?" she says smiling unsurely. Really, I'm not that fucking scary.

"No, what do I look like, a damn photographer?" I say, crossing my arms. I notice Ed gives me a look like he's annoyed. Poor little famous boy can't take a little picture with his fan.

Candace ends up taking the picture and then scolding me. By the whole fiasco is over I understand why Ed suggested staying in the car.

We get a spot in the back that's dark, but thankfully the place is pretty empty anyway.

I take a sip of my green tea frappe, leaning back in my chair and wait for Ed to start talking already, this is getting awkward and I'm tired.

Damn, you can almost see what he's thinking on his face. I'm sure I'm not helping the awkward floating in the air by slurping loudly through my straw, but I just can't hold myself back from being even more of a bitch to Ed.

I take a deep breath. God this is so weird. Finally, he starts talking. 

"Erm, so. Like I said, I'm Ed. Why don't you two tell me a little bit more about yourselves?"

Candace brightens up and smiles easily even though its still awkward conversation . "Like I said, I'm Candace and I'm twenty,  and Bash, she's eighteen. And uhhm, Bash and I are prostitutes...basically." She trails off not really sure that needed to be said.

I look up and realize that they're both looking at me, Ed curious and Candace worriedly. Probably thinks I'm gonna bite his head off again.

"Right, well, she's told you all there is to be said about us, so why don't you let us know why you've picked us up? We suck dick for a living, so dont be shy now," I say the last part smiling sweetly at Ed.

I'm surprised when he laughs quietly, unoffended. "I'm not really sure if you have a problem with me, or you're just in a bad mood. Either way, I'll explain now. Like I said, I'm Ed Sheeran (how many times has he said that, God) And, well, see my agent called me like a week ago.."

He goes on to tell us about the call, the contract agreement for a year, touring with him, making a music video and documentary. About how this is supposed to help us, in the end.

Yeah fucking right. And suddenly, I don't feel bad at all for disliking him the second I set eyes on him.

By the time he's done Candace is smiling like a kid in a candy shop.

"Oh my god, this is so amazing. I can't believe this is really happening. Of course we'll do it!"

"What the fuck,  no we fucking won't. Shit, you can do it, but there's no way I'm about to-..to turn my life into a fucking reality show," I was annoyed before, but now I'm just straight up angry. There's no way Candace could actually be agreeing to this.

Ed and Candace are both gaping at me like idiots as I get up and throw a single as a tip on the table.

Probably not good enough of a tip to be sitting with oh-so-amazing Edward Sheeran, I think remotely. But I'm not about to give a fuck for this shallow singer trying to make money off my life.

I'm glad I know where exactly we are so I just start walking to the motel Candace and I had been staying at since business was good. Its about a mile away but I haven't another choice since I don't have enough on me for a cab.

I walk quickly, my arms rubbing each other for warmth. I'm so angry I'm bumping into people and I can't bring myself to apologize or even give a shit.

Its snowing badly so it takes me about five minutes of walking to realize my face is wet, but not from the snow. I bring my hand up and wipe my tears angrily, annoyed that I've let something so trivial get to me. The more I walk, the worse my thoughts get.

 

"You're a fucking whore! That's all you've ever been and all you ever will be, stupid bitch!"

 

I'm always alone. I never said I was perfect.

 

Screaming. Yelling. Suddenly a plate is thrown towards her, narrowly missing and hitting the wall behind her. The shards cut into her hand, blood spilling onto the kitchen floor where confused and scared 12 year old Bash hid under the kitchen table.

 

"Stop it!" her mother yelled back. "Get the fuck out!"

 

The fighting moves to another room and all Bash hears is more swearing as she holds herself in a fetal position, tears running silenty down her face and her body racked with silent sobbing.

 

"Shit!" I scream loudly. I must have fallen down on my knees, because that's where I find myself now. I rub my eyes again, with more force till I stop crying, which takes about a minute since I'm used to having to control myself.

I crawl back till my back hits the short cement median and I lean back against it, my breath still occasionally hitching and my hands in my hair. 

I haven't cried like this in months, I've almost forgotten what it feels like. I sit for what feels like hours, but they could be seconds, and I feel my hands and tips of my toes start to go numb. I'm shivering and I know I should get up and start walking before I get pneumonia, but I feel like something's just broken inside me and I'm too tired. I've not had a flashback in months, I'd almost forgetten. But they always came back.

I sit, not thinking,  just sitting in a place between consciousness and sleep for what seems like years, or maybe just seconds.

A car. Footsteps.

"Bash! Bash, what the hell!" I feel Candace's familiar hands wrap around mine.

"What the hell, she's freezing to death!"

I feel stronger arms pick me up and I'm remotely aware of being set down in a car. After that, it all goes black.

 

Candace's POV

 

After Bash had the little outburst back in the cafe, I was pretty sure she would just go outside and smoke a blunt till I finished apologizing to Ed (yet again).

I just didnt get it. Why wouldn't she want to accept Ed's offer? It was literally a once in a lifetime, shit, a once in a whole-history-of-the-world chance on a damn silver platter.

And she just walked out on it.

Bash had always been extremely hard headed, to a fault even. She was harsh, blunt and hardly ever nice to new people. The only person she cares for is me, and I knew that all too well. I can't blame her really, knowing about her childhood. Or lack of one, anyway. And I know exactly why she acts that way, though she herself doesn't realize it.

After speeding quickly to Ed's hotel room (he had insisted) we were still running Bash a hot bath after laying her on the bed with the comforter on her and the heater turned up. By this time she's come to and knows where she is.

"I'm fucking fi-" Bash coughed,  unable to finish her sentence.

"Shhh! Don't talk. I can't beleive you walked out like that. You could've, like, died!" I scold her, holding her hand, rubbing small circles with my thumb. I know she wouldn't have,  but she just scared me to death with  how pale and unresponsive she was when I first found her. 

"I'm...I'm sorry, Dace," she rasps and looks at me. And I can tell she really is.

"Shhh, its okay." 

I look back nervously at Ed. "Umm, I'm gonna take her and put her in the bath now," signaling that he should probably leave the room. He isn't doing much other than standing awkwardly at the door, occasionally typing something on his phone.

"Ermm, right. If you need anything, don't hesitate. I'm just going to make a few calls in the other room. And..erm, you two can sleep in here tonight?"

"What, no. That's okay, we'll just go back to our motel after the bath, its fine."

"No, really, I insist. Its really late and I'm a bit tired, been a long night. I'll take the couch ," Ed smiles kindly and I nod. 

"Alright, night then. Call me if you need me." he says waving a little and walking out.

I close the door and turn back to Bash. 

"Come on, get up," I say as I help her to a sitting position and help her take her shirt off first. I'm glad it isn't awkward because I've given her baths before when she's been in similar situations.

As she stands and carelessly pulls off her skinny jeans and socks I feel that familiar twist in my stomach, and a pain in my heart. I look away quickly before she notices.

"Dace?... Look at me, please."

I look up at her from where I'm still crouched on the floor next to the bed.

"I'm sorry. Really, I am. I won't do it again."

I nod and brush the tears off face,  willing my eyes not to travel anywhere other than Bash's face.

She sighs and walks into the bathroom, leaving me glad she misunderstood the emotions on my face. If only she knew.

"Come stay with me...please?" she calls from the bath.

"Coming," I call back, hoping my voice doesn't break.

I grab a towel and spread it next to the tub Bash is in and I sit on it, holding her hand. Just like old times, I think happily. I sit by her till she finishes her bath and then wait on the bed as she showers and dresses in her clothes again.

Finally,  she lays down on the pillow next to me, facing me. She takes my hand and closes her eyes. She's obviously trying to avoid what's coming, but I'm better than that.

I take a deep breath.

"Bash?...What happened back there? I- I know you don't like Ed. I'm not sure why, but whatever. But still, why on Earth would you walk out like that? And on top of all that, you walked a fucking half mile, in the freezing snow! Th- there was no need!...An- And then, I find you curled up on the side of the road..what was I supposed to think? I thought you were getting better, dealing with things?"

She looks at me and opens her mouth to respond but I squeeze her hand to let her know I'm not done.

"I thought..I thought you said you were done? Like, done with living like this. You wanted to get ou-out of this nigh- nightmare. Then wh-why would you walk out li-like that? I thought you said we, we- were gonna communicate more," I finish off lamely, my breath hitching as the tears come from nowhere as I realize just how scared I was for her, for me.

"I'm sorry," she embraces me tightly, rocking back and forth. "I'm so sorry. I fucked up. I'm sorry, shhh, please don't cry. Its alright, Dace," Bash holds me in a tight hug and I'm crying like a baby. I'm not sure why, I mean, I'm definitley the more emotional one of us which made it even scarier to see Bash break down back there, even though she's younger than me.

Bash rubs her hand up and down my back and whispers comforting words, little lies like "we'll be alright" and "everything is okay" till I find myself calming down and at the edge of falling into a deep sleep.

"Bash?" I look over in the dark and see she's already asleep. 

I pull her arms around me tighter and fall asleep, my face buried in her neck. That night I dream of little girls dying of frostbite.

 

 


End file.
